#day7 - what it was like to take the challenge

So this is my last day of the blogging challenge.  Here's what I learned:  Seth Godin is the devil.  No, I'm just kidding - I still love Seth Godin.  His blog and thoughts about business, creativity, and being relevant as a 'product' in the market are challenging.   Reading him is like having a boss that really demands that you be your best and not just get by.

I think I took this challenge, because, like many writers, I often tell myself, "you should write more."  And then, I don't do it.  For me, this stems from my desire to write something that means something to somebody else besides me.  I write because I like a good story.  I write because I want to try to tell a good story - whether it's with a poem or with the blog or with my graphic novel (which means comic book, for those who have asked me whether I'm writing a sexually graphic novel.  I am not.  But I think it's fun that people might even think this about me!)  If it's 'good' writing, that means something to me.  If I am able to take a metaphor or current event or idea and tie it all these seemingly disparate pieces together - like Broadcast News and Imagine Dragons - that feels fun to me.

It's just so hard to get started and if it's not 'good' or as good as I want it to me, I am frustrated.

So this is my first lesson from the #day1 challenge:  Stop trying to be so good and just write.

The second thing I learned is:  Know why I'm writing.  Am I writing for stats?  Am I writing to get a book deal?  Am I writing for 'likes on facebook?'  Sure.  But, also, no.

At the very core, I am writing because despite looking like a pretty regular midwest working mom, I've had a few extraordinary experiences.  And because of these experiences, I have something that I think is worthwhile to share - whether that's with one person or one million.

Just today, my dear friend sent me this link:  http://markmanson.net/not-giving-a-fuck
This is a hilarious piece of writing with a lot of truth in it.  This piece challenged me too - to be a writer or artist, in some way, you have to 'not give a fuck.'  What if my ideas are weird?  What if no one likes them?  I put myself out on a limb...maybe it doesn't seem that scary because I'm not saying anything that crazy, but what is scary to me is that I believe in it SO much.

I write this blog in a much gentler voice than Mark Manson has - and the reason I do this, is not because I am a goody-goody or that I disagree with him.  The reason I write this gently but also feel so passionately, is because I've seen a gorgeous world, but a world full of hurts and pain.  In my experience, the world of healing is a world where we start by being kinder to ourselves - gentler with ourselves.  Then, gentler, less judgmental, more big-hearted with those in our families and communities.

There's a place for challenge and there's a place for gentle and there's a place for gently challenging.  That's why I learned  this week that I might be blogging more often, but I'm not going to beat myself up if I don't.

Thank you for reading.

#day6 - where my demons hide

Having an 11 year old son, my life is full of an extraordinary number of poop, penis and passing gas 'jokes', if you can call them that.  Almost anything in the world can be made into such a joke (note:  watch Space Balls - get it, balls).  So there's a fairly popular song by Imagine Dragons called "Demons" and because we often listen to pop music in the car and because my son often chooses to let loose with passing gas in the car, we have begun to associate the lyrics, "that's where my demons hide" with my son passing gas.   It's a family song.  We are wholesome like that.

Probably because this song, tune and lyrics are so catchy, I've found myself thinking what does this really mean?  I can't believe it was the intent of the songwriters for the general public to abuse it's meaning in such a way as we do.

So today's #day6 entry is about what I consider one of my biggest demons - one thing I try to exorcise, but which seems to find new permutations in my life.

Have you ever seen the movie Broadcast News?  This is a great movie and Joan Cusack has a hilarious scene where she's trying to get news copy to the news anchor within minutes of going live.  The scene is called pushing.  Here's a link:  https://search.yahoo.com/search?fr=mcafee&type=B211US747D20140716&p=broadcast+news+scene+pushing

This is how I feel trying to get out the door in the morning.  And there are occasional days where I feel this way much of the day (particularly around Christmas).  My demon is overestimating my ability  accomplish tasks, and underestimating the time I will have to relax when said tasks are done.

I see this in my daughter who does all her homework for the week on Monday.  I was the exact same way - I liked to get my work done so I could play.  The problem in adult life is that the work is never done.  While you were getting some tasks done, more to do's were piling up.  I have all the 'accomplishment' but none of the relaxation and play that I had up until age 22.

So here is something I'm trying.  When I have my get out the door 'to do' list - whatever I think I can or should get done, I am mentally taking one thing off the list.  Sometimes, it's as banal as, I'm not going to scoop the cat poop.  When I am particularly "pushing" a la Broadcast News, I have to deliberately talk to myself and reassure myself :  Katy, if the cat poop doesn't get scooped today, everything will be okay.  Your house will not be condemned.  There will not be a terrible, permeating smell of cat pee."

I know in lots of ways, I'm being silly about this, but I also want to say that we all have 'demons' - usually more than one.  I think it fits in the category if it's something you consistently want to change and you know is inhibiting your quality of life, but you 'keep doing it.'

There's a story/myth that I think is Native American in origin about many animals trying to reach the Great Spirit on the Mountain.  Unfortunately, a gigantic demon stood in the path and the animals were afraid to pass.  But a small fawn approached the demon and said, "Please, I'd like to go see the Great Spirit."  The demon instantly shrunk to a very small size and the fawn and all the other animals could pass.

Gentleness, often is the best remedy for our demons.
p.s.  Mom,  I changed my profile pic to a pic from Broadcast News.  I'll change it back soon, I promise!

#day5 - it's just simple...friends

When I began to blog again after my year or so off, I began by thinking about this theme in my life of 'bouncing' - my mom used to compare me with Tigger, who often bounced himself into situations that he didn't like half so much as he thought he would.  And my dad has always compared me to the Unsinkable Molly Brown, who survived the sinking of the Titanic among other things.  I guess that's a reverse bounce, right?

And I thought about how I do feel really resilient.  I have a deep sense that I am not only okay, I'm good.  And if I'm not good, I know I'm going to get good soon.

Recently, I wrote about how to keep it simple and take care of yourself after really bad life events -one little moment at a time.  For me, it's helped to get in practice of checking in with my body...how does it feel?  Am I enjoying my food?  Am I getting enough sleep?  Do I need to stretch? Do I need to be warmer, cooler, more comfortable?

But after taking care of your body, the other big, big thing I learned about bouncing is that you must have friends, cultivate friendship, cherish your friends, and give them a wide berth (because let's face it - we're not always perfect friends ourselves).

In bad times, my friends have made me dinners, called or texted me every day over months of time, they've given me Xanax that wasn't prescribed to me (just once), they've listened to me cry, they've laughed at weird SNL clips I've sent them, they've taken me into their homes when it wasn't convenient.  So in some way, this blog post is to say THANK YOU, FRIENDS.  Also, that's a thanks for just the bad times - the good times are the best - giggling our heads off at live theater, when it's really not appropriate, marching in Fourth of July parades, sharing dinners and concerts, and a love of Andrew Lloyd Weber.  I could go on!

But, for the wider audience, I want to notice a couple things - first, I hear complaints from a variety of folks - 'this friend wasn't there for me as much as I wanted her to be', 'this friend only thinks about himself', this friend said she would do this or that and she didn't.'  It's true - sometimes we can choose crummy friends.  But I think more often than not we can remember that different friends are great at different things.  Some friends are great with words.  Some friends are great to laugh with, but can't be serious too easily.  Some friends will come to your defense.  Some friends always want to make peace.

My mom has been part of the same 'book club' for over 30 years (I use the term very loosely because I don't think they've read a book in 24 years).  These friends have helped each other through divorce, moving, and deaths.  We all need a book club like this.

So there you have it - my second big lesson in 'bouncing' - make friends, keep friends, be a friend.  Love your friends.  I know I do.  From the bottom of my heart.

#day4 - rebels, change-makers, big and small

This evening, for the first year in 11 that I have lived in my community, I took part in the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. events.  My family and some dear family friends walked from City Hall to a local school, we ate dinner in community with our neighbors and we took part in a 'service' in the school auditorium that included music, theater, awards, prayers.

Since it's my family, of course there had to be some 'sidebar' discussion and disagreement.  One theme, stated by one of the award-winning elementary school essayists was about starting change on a small scale.  This young lady wrote, "What I can do to stop racism is I can set an example, because I want to make sure my brother as he gets older that he learns that what is inside matters and what is outside does not.  And then, he will tell other people and it will become a chain."  WOW!  I totally agree.

Yet, my son (age 11), had to disagree and let me know during program.  No, he said.  Real change has to be big.  It has to be laws and it has to be whole groups and organizations doing things differently.  (Why haven't I been able to brainwash him more adequately?!?)

Interestingly, I listened to this being discussed on an On Being podcast recently: http://www.onbeing.org/program/parker-palmer-and-courtney-martin-the-inner-life-of-rebellion/7122

Two religious 'rebels' and social activists of two very different generations talked about the pitfalls of only thinking about change as meaningful if we 'change the world.'

Increasingly, I have to agree - this comes from my work and is illuminated for me again and again.  Small changes are the 'chain.'  In fact, there is nothing too small.  Every time you or I act or speak out of thoughtfulness, rather than reactivity - that's a win on a universal level.  Every time you or I choose kindness to ourselves and others over judgement - that is a cosmic triumph.

It also reminds me of It's A Wonderful Life, which we watched over the holidays.  One person's life effects so many - don't underestimate the difference you make.

So, though I'm tempted to 'correct' my son or try to convince him of my opinion, I'm also aware that each of us comes to our own wisdom in life and his answers might be different from mine.  My little piece of this chain is keeping my big mom mouth shut, and instead writing this blog.

#day3 - for my college friends to giggle: I am me, I am ok

Just thinking today about how many people I've worked with over the years who are embarrassed or even ashamed of who they used to be at some younger age.  "I was a bully" or "I was a mean girl."  "I was slutty."  Or "I wasn't good to my mom and now she's gone."  "I was drunk."  "I lied."  The list goes on and on.

I've been doing research into the relationship between humor, play and grief and it reminds me of something I found recently:

Isn't Calvin the best?  Sometimes we are all like this - not accepting the past, and trying to change anything and everything out of our sheer will for control, and not seeing the reality that we're in.  

I'd like to propose that if you have a version of yourself from your past (even if it was yesterday), that you're not proud of - try to use a lighter touch with yourself.  I remember when I moved to DC after college and started wearing a lot of black and feeling I was very sophisticated, I became embarrassed of the Midwestern version of myself who wore Christmas sweatshirts and had a Virginia Satir poster on my college dorm wall (my East coast self thought that was WAY too sentimental).  Then,  I got older and became embarrassed of the posturing young adult who had to wear black to prove she was cool.  Now, I like both those girls.  They were doing their best to figure out "who am I?"  

I hope that you can go easy on you.  You may just have been trying to figure out who you were too.

Since I have no pretense of being cool anymore.  For your pleasure and in the immortal words of Virginia Satir

I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it – I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself.

 I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts.

I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know – but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me.

However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded.

 I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me.

 I am me, and I am Okay.

 From Self Esteem by Virginia Satir

Close Encounters, Alzheimer's and Art - #day2

One of my 'old hospice patients came to mind recently - she's probably been gone about 8 years now, but she lived remarkably well over 102 years and always seemed to have a smile on her face.  She'd been a wife and mother, but also painter in her younger years.  Her loving family often visited and they'd decorated her room with some of her own oils and watercolors.  The paintings were realistic portrayals of the natural world, and really very beautiful.  Though she had this upbeat demeanor, she appeared to remember nothing of her days or her life.  She appeared to live each moment and let it go in the next.  She had dementia.  As our hospice volunteers worked with her, they began bringing papers and watercolors for her and she began painting again.  Her paintings were totally different than those of her 'youth' - abstract, the colors and brushstrokes were bold.  I found them actually more beautiful than her realistic paintings and I know that creating them brought her some connection and satisfaction, which I could see from the look on her face rather than anything she was able to articulate.

As a poet and writer, I want to share my enthusiasm for the healing power of art of any kind.  I recently became aware of The Alzheimer's Poetry Project  http://www.alzpoetry.com/index.php  , which connects people with Alzheimer's to young writers, to art, and to some kind of meaning through poetry spoken aloud.   I also want to mention my friend and colleague, Anna Lehrke who offers a number of creative services to help organizations and individuals work in  holistic ways with the elderly and people with memory impairment.  She's at Care Beyond Words  http://www.carebeyondwords.com/CareBeyondWords.html .  Not to mention music therapists and art therapists who are lending their immense talents to helping all different kinds of people.  Or the way listening to a song on the radio can help us get in touch with feelings we didn't even know we had.  One of my friends from high school recently shared how much music helped her in dealing with the loss of her much loved cat.  Not to put myself out of business, but sometimes art can leave talk therapy in the dust in its ability to quickly get us to a place of greater understanding of ourselves, feeling our feelings, and then feeling connected with the whole history of humankind who have had similar experiences.

As I was thinking about how to sum this up, the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind came to my mind and the scene near the end when we humans connect with the aliens through tone, music and light.  It is really a tingly scene - the hope we have of connecting, communicating.  What art and music and poetry offer is a way to say, I am like you.  I come in peace.

#day1 - In grief, holding on to the little things

Ok, so I haven't been blogging, but I've started about four different posts since the last time I wrote.  They were long and cumbersome and only halfway inspired.  But in the meantime, I've become slightly obsessed with Seth Godin, who is an creative guru, marketing/pr/tech guy who has some philosophical and spiritual ideas I like too.

Here's his friend and colleague:

http://yourturnchallenge.strikingly.com/

Here's him:
http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2015/01/getting-unstuck-a-one-week-challenge.html

His colleague, Winnie, is challenging bloggers to blog everyday for a week to get in the practice of 'shipping', which must be a business term that we poets/psychotherapists are unfamiliar with - kind of like putting something on 'the parking lot' or some other thing I learned from management seminars I've been to.  I've blocked it, But I do remember there was a funny send up of this type of thing in an early 30 Rock episode.

Anyway - I'm taking the challenge:  Here's what's on my mind today - no frills, no long stories, just getting it going.

My nine year old daughter and I just finished reading The Diary of Anne Frank.  We lingered over that book for months and I couldn't figure out why, until I realized it had to do with grief.  I felt like I knew Anne Frank - she came alive to me through her diary.   I also came to realize that when the diary ended, I would have to grieve her.  I would also have to think about what a tragic end to her life and especially so since it was so close to the end of WWII.

It made me connect to all the grieving people I've worked with over the years - the one who kept her husband's voice on the answering machine, the one who didn't clean out the laundry bag of a teenage son who died, the one who kept his wife's dish of loose change on the counter for years.  Now we even have text messages we can save or facebook pages.  We long to keep our loved ones alive in some little way.

As a grief therapist, I think this is all ok.  People ask me "am I normal?"  Yes, I think so.  This is a story we are all a part of  - loving deeply.   And losing.  We want something tangible to keep and something that is true.

I just wanted to say that.  Let the voice, or the email or the dish with the quarters remind you also that you are connected with all the other people in the world who have lost someone they deeply love.  It is one of life's comforts to know you are not alone.